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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543321">round and round</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/4_Jwj/pseuds/4_Jwj'>4_Jwj</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SF9 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:00:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/4_Jwj/pseuds/4_Jwj</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a perfectly ordinary thing, or how chanhee learns he fell in love (written for prompt F048)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Chanhee | Chani/Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Round One: Ringing In The Fanfare</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>round and round</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s a little embarrassing, the first time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee’s not sure why he comes back, except that the cookies really are good, still warm and just the right balance between soft on the inside, crispy on the outside - and he’s a little bit curious, about seokwoo. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it startles him, seeing a man’s face through the display case, mouth dropping open in a small <em>oh </em>he doesn’t think he hears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it might be the glass, but his eyes look like they take up most of his face, impossibly wide almost and open in shock under the brim of his hat. the man behind the counter startles a lot, falling backward, the empty tray clattering to the ground beside him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">thankfully, he sees chanhee after he slides the wax paper lined with chocolate chip cookies onto the counter, going slowly so that none of the cookies fold and lose their shape. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee doesn’t say anything, tries not to laugh while he gets up, dusts himself off with trembling hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“sorry about that, can i help you with anything?” standing up, chanhee has to look up, quite a bit to meet his eyes. he doesn’t at first, he’s not expecting to need to, and all he sees is white, a smear of something like strawberry jam by his collar. he’s not wearing a name tag. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“can i get -” there’s a faint blush dusting his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. a little distracting, enough that chanhee forgets he hadn’t decided on anything, yet. crouched in the front of the display case, everything looked good, “i don’t know?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he has a nice smile, warm and wide that suits him perfectly, somehow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“the chocolate chip cookies are really good when they’re fresh,” he says, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, maybe worrying over how they got there. the gloves he’s wearing are covered in flower, leave a dusty streak when he pulls away, “and taeyang should be back soon if you want some coffee?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee nods, tilts his head up, to the signboard a beat too late but then again chanhee is - chanhee moves slowly, and the other man doesn’t seem to be rushing him. he does have a kind of nervous energy, fingers drumming along the counter or rubbing at the front of his apron, but it’s not - it doesn’t feel like it’s directed at chanhee, to get him to hurry up. it’s a part of him, or because he’s nervous, but chanhee is grateful this isn’t one of those times he has to feel like a nuisance, and it has a lot to do with the small smile still resting on the other man’s lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“can i get a - one of the cookies, and a hot chocolate?” he stutters a little, stops when the other man moves to slide his gloves off of his fingers, grabbing a new pair from under the cash register. it’s just - he’s a lot bigger than chanhee, and he sort of realizes this, seriously, looking at his hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s hard to be intimidated by someone he just saw fall flat on their butt, and he’s not, but he thinks he can see how he might have been, if things were different. the knowledge is a little startling, is all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">in any case, the guy behind the counter doesn’t seem to notice. he takes out one of the cookies and puts it on a plate, handing it to chanhee with a little fork before turning back to the register. chanhee takes the plate with a muttered <em>thanks, </em>picking up the tiny fork and spinning it between his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when he looks up, the eyes behind the counter are almost level with his, a different smile pointed at him, friendly but neutral. chanhee pays for his drink, the cookie and brings them both to a table by the front window, his back facing the counter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">from here he can watch the storm, see if it dies down before he leaves or if he has to call youngkyun to pick him up, but he can’t see display case, the cashier or the door leading into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he doesn’t need to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">turning back once to see if anybody is looking at him - they aren’t, and the guy who’s supposed to be behind the counter, whose name tag reads <em>taeyang, </em>is gone again - he snaps a quick picture of the cookie with his phone before tucking it back into his pocket. someone - maybe the first guy, the tall man behind the counter - baked the chocolate chips into a smile.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee doesn’t send it to anyone, but he does see it, looking through his pictures later, and thinks about wide eyes, large hands handing him a tiny fork, and decides to go back to that cafe, the next time he needs somewhere quiet to study. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">one more time turns into three more, five more times in the next month. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s usually taeyang who’s working after his classes end, and chanhee finds out pretty quickly why they keep him around even though he rarely seems to be doing his job. he’s friendly, talkative after he gets to <em>know </em>chanhee, and really good at convincing older women they need more sweets than they actually wanted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he might even be really good at convincing chanhee he doesn’t want another cookie, but instead is totally craving a strawberry croissant, stuffed with a soft buttercream and fresh cut strawberries - and three times more expensive than a cookie - without seokwoo there to tap him on the head, gently, with an empty cookie tray. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee finds out his name from taeyang, who looks at chanhee and looks at seokwoo and sighs big, heavy like he’s exaggerating his movements for the stage. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“chanhee,” he points at chanhee, “seokwoo,” turning to seokwoo, frantically waving his hands between them, “there. it only took, like three weeks?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo whacks him on the ass with the cookie tray, startles a yelp out of him, a laugh from chanhee.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“what, you should know our regular’s names, it’s good pr,” seokwoo just laughs, gives chanhee a small wave before ducking back into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the back of his neck is red, but it usually is. chanhee thinks - it’s probably the heat, from the ovens - wonders, sometimes, if it isn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he pays for his chocolate chip cookie and hot chocolate, takes them both to his usual spot at the front window. there’s barely enough room on the ledge for his textbooks, a notebook, and the large mug of hot chocolate, but he can see the first snowflakes start to fall, a little girl grip her mother’s hand and excitedly point at the sky. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s a compromise, sort of, and chanhee still somehow gets more work done here than at his dorm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">later, packing up his things, a hand on his shoulder startles him into turning around. his fingers,gripping the strap of his bag relax when he sees seokwoo, holding up his scarf.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“sorry, you dropped this,” chanhee takes it from him in a big ball, holding it to his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">without something to hold on to, seokwoo’s hands fall to his sides, fiddling with the ends of his apron. chanhee follows the nervous tapping of his fingers with his eyes, watching him narrowly avoid a spot of chocolate just by his left hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he says <em>thank you </em>as he unwraps the bundled scarf to wind around his neck, the last part softened into the loop. before he’s finished, seokwoo’s hands come up to pull gently at the scarf until it rests evenly on his shoulders, the ends level where they rest against his jacket. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it keeps falling off because it’s too loose,” seokwoo says, eyes flitting from chanhee’s face to the window behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s right, but chanhee usually doesn’t notice he’s pulled it askew until it’s already dragging on the floor. there’s a couple of stains by the ends where they sometimes fall into his hot chocolate he hopes seokwoo doesn’t notice. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he might have, but isn’t looking at chanhee at all right now, eyes falling on the chemistry textbook he hadn’t had time to close, before seokwoo startled him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“is that - math?” the face he’s making is kind of incredible, probably exaggerated, but chanhee still has to smother a laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“no it’s - it’s chemistry. do you really not -” seokwoo shrugs, the last of his horrified expression melting off his face as he lowers his eyebrows, the ends of his mouth lifting in a smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee squints at him until he starts to blur, eying his arms before - “you graduated high school because of sports, didn’t you,” and seokwoo laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s the first time and it’s - nice. kind of goofy but the way his eyes widen just before it breaks out, like chanhee shocked it out of him is -</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“yeah, baseball,” seokwoo leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely at his chest, restless hands finally still. it’s no use, though, the front of his apron covered in a fine layer of flour that is only visible when it clings to long, dark sleeves of his shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee pushes back the urge to step forward and brush it off, turning away to shove the chemistry textbook into his bag, instead. he’s had it since high school, and sometimes the zipper gets caught in its fraying seams, but he’s never seriously thought about getting rid of it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">while he struggles with it he asks, “how did you start working here, then?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo is quiet until he finishes, and chanhee hurries to backtrack. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he can’t read the expression on seokwoo’s face, normal for a stranger - which they are - but a first with seokwoo. he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, or at least chanhee <em>thinks </em>he does - he may have been bad at hiding his embarrassment, but he’s always been exceptionally polite and it might be taking all he has to not show how much chanhee’s probing - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it was only one question but it’s really none of his - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“no! it’s fine it’s just - i wasn’t expecting you to -” he’s tensed up again, waving his hands like he can physically repel chanhee’s train of thought, but he relaxes when chanhee does, resting his full backpack on the table while seokwoo talks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it takes a while, if only because seokwoo sometimes gets sidetracked, asking chanhee about movies that came out the year he graduated high school, pausing to remember what <em>exactly</em> the weather was like on his first day, and trying to needle chanhee into admitting he’s not old </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(<em>i’m </em>not, <em>you just had an unhealthy obsession with shinee - </em></span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>and you haven’t heard a new song since you went into the army. literally everything you’re telling me to listen to came out before i was born - </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>you were born before 2009- </em>) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">about halfway, a customer coming in through the door almost knocks him off his feet. chanhee reaches out to steady him, trying to discreetly brush off some of the flour dusting his upper arms before he lets him go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo pulls up a chair and turns it around, crossing his arms over the back before he continues. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the story itself isn’t very long. seokwoo could have probably told him in a few sentences about how he joined the army straight out of high school, hoping he’d have a better idea of what he wanted to do with his life in two years. he hadn’t, but the <em>sensation </em>had opened around the same time he’d moved back, close to the apartment he’d rented, and the owner had been apparently willing to take anyone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s not a particularly long or complex story, but - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee fiddles with the ends of his scarf while seokwoo talks, pulling on it until it pools in his lap, squeezing it into a tight ball between his fingers. he listens, starts feeling like he knows these people, youngbin and now taeyang, a little better - and seokwoo. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he gets distracted easily, but his story has enough detail that chanhee gets sucked into it, partially against his will. seokwoo beams whenever he asks a question, leans far enough forward in the chair chanhee starts to watch the legs, in case he needs to catch him again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he comes close, balancing on two legs until another energetic hand motion brings him heavily back down on all four, but never actually falls. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee listens, mostly silent until he finishes - and then he starts to talk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">like the first time he came back, he isn’t entirely sure why he does. there’s warmth settling at the bottom of his stomach, seokwoo’s bright eyes fixed on him and impossibly gentle, until he needs to look down, hands twisting the scarf between his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">at some point, seokwoo takes off his cap to run a hand through thick black hair, matted into a shape chanhee has to pause to laugh at, but other than that he doesn’t interrupt him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“ - it’s not that i can’t do it any more, or i don’t want to i just - don’t know i want it as much, anymore,” chanhee finishes, watching seokwoo twist his cap between his fingers, copying him. he probably doesn’t notice he’s doing it, but he stops when chanhee does, letting the hat rest on his thighs before meeting chanhee’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“you’re going to be fine, you know,” he snatches the hat off his leg, poking it at chanhee when he looks at him - he’s not sure how, but seokwoo clearly doesn’t like it, “i mean it! you’re in here everyday, studying, and even if you’re not going to be, like, a doctor any more you still like the - uh - other stuff, right,” chanhee laughs, swatting the hat away as seokwoo tries to hit him with it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he keeps going, talking over chanhee’s cackling when it starts to die down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it’s okay to have doubts, obviously, everyone does, but - trust yourself to figure them out, you’ve gotten this far. there’s no rush, either. you could always take a year off, if you wanted. i mean, you said you were tired -” he slows to a stop, carefully turning each word over in his head before speaking. chanhee takes in the nervous wringing of his hands, his teeth chewing on his bottom. thinks about his voice when he said <em>it wasn’t, like, a </em>bad <em>injury, but it was bad enough, i guess</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(he hadn’t asked, had tucked it away for later before realizing he’d just assumed - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">for the next minute chanhee barely hears seokwoo talk about the first time he’d tried making a soufflé, coincidentally the first time he’d officially set something on fire, focused on his mouth telling part of the story, his hands the rest. sees himself reaching out to hold those hands between his, stilling them so he can see his face when he talks and hopes there is a next time, at least once more where he can grow a little more comfortable around him, enough to actually reach out, when he wants to) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s sincere, obvious in the colour on his cheeks and the words still caught in his throat. those that do make it out don’t come across as hollow, and after a few seconds chanhee’s tentative smile seems to reassure him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he puts his hat back on his head, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes with one hand. the other taps lightly on the back of the chair, slower and more relaxed than his earlier fidgeting. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee clears his throat, pointing to one of the clocks on the wall. none of them actually work, but they at least remind him that he doesn’t know what time it is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it feels like he’s been talking to seokwoo, quiet and uninterrupted in a corner of the cafe isolated from the other tables scattered around the room for hours.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” seokwoo starts, whipping around to look at another clock before sheepishly pulling his phone out of a pocket in the apron. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it’s fine, i’m on a break,” he eyes chanhee’s raised eyebrows and insists, “it’s true, my shift ends whenever i’m done.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s smiling, still turned towards chanhee and he doesn’t doubt he means it, but - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the sun is starting to set, brushing seokwoo with a soft glow that settles in his eyes, over his skin until it glows. he still has no idea how much work seokwoo has left, or even when he came in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">ignoring the unfamiliar urge to linger, chanhee puts on his scarf and swings his bag over his shoulder. seokwoo stands up to walk him the single foot to the door, holding it open for chanhee and the young woman that comes in after him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he doesn’t say he’ll be back, or <em>see you soon</em>, and seokwoo doesn’t ask when, or if he will. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee tucks his earbuds in as he walks towards the subway, lighter than when he stepped out of class. the airy feeling in his stomach is still there, a mix of something new, exciting happening over the past couple of hours and underneath, something familiar. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">taeyang is actually behind the counter today, although he’s facing away from the front, and reading a comic book. chanhee has to reach out and poke him in the arm, when calling his name doesn’t work. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he looks down at the display case, briefly, although already knows what he wants. seokwoo has a surprisingly gentle touch, covers his cupcakes, some of his cookies in delicate frosting designs that are nice to look at, even if chanhee always gets - “oh, there’s no more chocolate chip cookies?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">taeyang laughs, turns to yell into the kitchen, “hey, seokwoo, can you make more chocolate chip cookies -” he’s interrupted by clattering pans, seokwoo’s voice in a pitchy falsetto that sounds nothing like taeyang. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“hey, seokwoo, make some more chocolate chip cookies, yeah, okay, i don’t need the oven for anything -”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo pokes his head through the door, meets chanhee’s small wave with a smile, “yeah, sure, i’ll go put them in right now,” his back to him and already turning around, seokwoo can’t see the exaggeratedly blank look on taeyang’s face, so he turns the full force of it on chanhee, palm already outstretched to accept his handful of change. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“you should be doing this, he’d never complain,” chanhee shakes his head, watching taeyang get started on his drink.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“what are you talking about, we fight all the time.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“yeah, but -” taeyang takes one long, calculating look at chanhee and decides it’s not worth it, something he does more and more often. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee takes his drink to his usual spot, warmer now in the midsummer sun. he takes his sweater off, pushing it against the window to rest his book against. it gives him a little more room to take notes, and to set the tall glass down without worrying about knocking it over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">fingers dancing across his back startle him a little later, seokwoo’s chin coming to rest on the top of his head. his arm reaches around to place a small plate with a couple of cookies beside his glass, mostly full. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when he speaks, his weight digs into chanhee’s skull, but he barely seems to register chanhee trying to push him away, “what are you reading?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“bio,” seokwoo hums, and chanhee half hopes he’ll move, after. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“explain it to me,” he had been almost painfully shy, at first. now it’s almost impossible to get seokwoo to stop talking, his hands perpetually resting on chanhee’s shoulders, poking at him when he says something (in his words) too mean. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">this is new, too, and chanhee is kind of surprised it works. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he had thought seokwoo had forgotten most of their first conversation, a little nauseous the first time back, after, until seokwoo popped out of the kitchen to nag him about leaving his jacket open in the rain </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
(chanhee insists he unzipped it after coming inside, until he returns the following week with a cold. seokwoo, to his credit, is insufferable for all of five minutes before sending taeyang to him with not one, three different cups of tea.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">then, chanhee wondered whether he was like this with everyone he sort-of knew. now, he’s still not sure) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the discomfort of showing so much of himself to a stranger lasts until the next time he sees seokwoo, and chanhee doesn’t expect any of what was said to come back again after the feeling fades away, but - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo starts to ask him, specifically, about what he’s reading. he listens carefully, asking pointed questions when he doesn’t understand, genuinely excited to be hearing something new. talking about it with seokwoo, someone without years of experience and background knowledge, chanhee starts to remember why he was so curious about - everything - at the beginning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee starts to explain, pointing at diagrams when he thinks they might be helpful (some of them he still doesn’t understand, but seokwoo doesn’t need to know that), comfortable with seokwoo’s weight hovering on top of him before taeyang shouts from the counter that something’s beeping. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee winces, sure he’s been calling out to them for a while. taeyang doesn’t exactly whisper, but his voice is soft, calmer than most. this might be the first time chanhee’s ever heard him shout, and even seokwoo must not be used to it, jumping from his position draped across chanhee’s back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he pulls away, turning back to the kitchen before jogging back to chanhee, muttering <em>sorry </em>before stealing a sip of of his drink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee scowls at him until he’s out of sight, taking a drink of the strawberry milkshake to assure himself it’s not <em>too sweet</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em><br/>
</em>(surprisingly, seokwoo doesn’t really like sweets. he starts bringing new deserts to chanhee, to taste before adding them to the cafe’s menu. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the newest deserts - a blueberry lemon cake, topped with thick frosting, globes of sugar you can actually see, and a much larger chocolate cookie, the size of hand - are noticeably sweeter, according to taeyang, but chanhee just thinks they’re good. the bigger cookie lasts longer, taking small bites out of it while he studies</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>of course you like them, they’re made for - </em>but taeyang never finishes, cut off by a withering look from chanhee, this time. it has nothing to do with him - the new deserts sell well, because they <em>should be </em>sweet) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee stifles a yawn into his hand as he swings a leg over his bicycle, somehow surprised into stumbling the rest of the way off his bike, leaving it to clatter against the side of the shop. the sound echos in the alleyway with nobody to hear it, and chanhee lets it sit there unlocked once he’s sure it won’t fall over. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the back door leads straight into the kitchen, once chanhee pushes aside a stack of empty cardboard boxes. behind them, he can still make out the soft piano music from the main dining room he was only slightly horrified to learn never actually stops. seokwoo usually plays something loud and fun to drown it out in the middle of the night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">this morning he’s left his phone on the counter, instead. chanhee tucks into his pocket, brushing off a layer of flour before he does. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he isn’t anywhere in the kitchen, but chanhee only has to wait a couple of seconds before the sound of something dense hitting the floor comes from the direction of the store room. seokwoo steps out moments later, a layer of flour coating his legs, the bottom of the apron. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he smiles when he looks up, sees chanhee with his camera held up in one hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s new, his first ever film camera that isn’t single use. youngbin had told him to get it <em>out of the cafe’s earnings</em>, because he - technically - works here now</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(he still tries to insist that all he does is take pictures, something he’d be doing anyway, but youngbin will never let him finish a sentence. he thinks of seokwoo’s story, almost every time he sees him - the warmth in his voice that was taken directly from him, from youngbin who was somehow nervous and excited to meet <em>chanhee</em>, seokwoo pushing him into the office talking about his <em>great idea</em>) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it was taeyang’s idea, after he caught chanhee trying to sneak his usual picture of one of seokwoo’s cookies </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(a star, with 4 points instead of 5 because seokwoo got distracted. he started saving the rejects for chanhee after noticing he picks the weirdest ones, when he can. he sometimes has a small pile of them waiting to throw in the microwave when chanhee eventually shows up, cookies that somehow ended up with only one chocolate chip, or spread too much they hang off the small plate like a melting clock) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it <em>is</em> popular for cafes to have their own instagram pages, delicately lit pictures of angel cakes and croissants attracting customers looking for something new, food bloggers looking for something that photographs well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee first heard about the <em>sensation </em>through one of his classmates posts, reason why he ducked into it rather than any one of the dozen cafes lining the street during the storm - he had recognized the name, and remembered the absolutely monstrous croissants associated with it<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(thinking about it, that’s probably what he had meant to get, that first time. the storm, an exam that hadn’t gone well - enough sugar to make his teeth ache had seemed like a way to get his mind off it, the opposite of a reward for having done well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seeing seokwoo had driven it completely from his mind. when he thinks about that day he remembers seokwoo’s eyes, his hands in a constant flurry of motion. now, he barely remembers what he’d gotten on the test, but can clearly picture the flush on seokwoo’s cheeks as he’d picked himself off the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it comes up less often now, seokwoo having gotten used to showing off his clumsiness around chanhee. he’s still not sure how he feels about it, if he’s happy or he misses seokwoo being just a little unsteady around him) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo has left a couple of those croissants cooling on a tray, beside a half dozen loaves of bread still inside the molds. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">carefully, chanhee inches the tray away from the hot metal, moving it by the window to snap a couple of pictures in the light. behind him, seokwoo works quietly, humming to himself when he can make out the melody playing in the cafe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee takes a couple more pictures of the counter, setting it up for the morning while he works. seokwoo moves around him, leaving more pastries nearby when he finishes them, grabbing things from the fridge under the counter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when he’s done, he steps into youngbin’s office - which is never locked, and chanhee can’t exactly find a reason it should be, other than it’s where taeyang hides when he’s dodging work. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">youngbin isn’t that much older than his employees, but he’s well respected. chanhee understands why, muttering <em>excuse me </em>while he opens the door. there’s nobody inside, but it feels like the right thing to do. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">from youngbin’s computer, he checks the cafe’s email for any new pictures from the developer, choosing some to upload to the account. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the ones that have seokwoo in them - his forearms, kneading dough or his back, bent over his work counter but never his face, per his own request - are popular. seokwoo insists its a process thing, peering behind the curtain but chanhee, everyone else is pretty confident they’re right to tease him, gaining a small fan following because he has nice arms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">theres’s a couple of his face, one of the two of them together that was a logistical nightmare to take on a digital camera that they keep for themselves. youngbin pins them to a cork board that rests on top of a filing cabinet in his office. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee glances over them when he’s done, looking for any new ones. in the centre, there’s a polaroid of the puppy youngbin and his partner just adopted he doesn’t recognize, and a picture of his overseas wedding to jaeyoon he must have brought from home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the top left corner is covered in pictures from the renovation last month. with the warmer weather, the cafe shut down for two weeks so youngbin and seokwoo could repaint the inside, hang up a couple more clocks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee only stopped by take a couple of pictures, document the process, with taeyang. they hadn’t meant to stay, that day or any of the others, but - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo manages to spill paint on him minutes after he steps through the door, wobbling on the ladder he’s standing on to reach the ceiling for a tense handful of seconds before he rights himself. the plastic tray of paint he’s holding tips of out of his hands, however, covering chanhee’s arm, half of his back in white paint </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(he apologies profusely, scrambling off the ladder even before the tray hits the ground to hover around chanhee, asking if he’s okay. he’s owned this hoodie for years, will still wear it out after because the stain honestly looks kind of cool - enough to do groceries in the early hours of the morning - but he pretends be upset enough about it seokwoo feels the need to wait on him for the rest of the day, handing him water whenever he says he’s thirsty, running out to pick up takeout for all of them when he gets hungry. it works out in more ways than one) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">no real reason not to, he opens another can of paint and starts on the lower wall, near the front door. taeyang stays, too, probably because he’s not done laughing at seokwoo, or chanhee. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">a handful of pictures exist of each of them, covered in varying amounts of paint and almost always smiling. there’s one of seokwoo pouting - not because of the patch of paint drying in his hair, but because of chanhee cackling behind the camera, forcing him to pose for the picture. behind him, taeyang and youngbin each throwing up a peace sign. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">yawning again, chanhee picks the camera up off the desk before leaving the office, already thinking about falling back in bed when he gets back to the dorm. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">his only class is in the afternoon today, and usually that would mean sleeping until noon - at least, but once the cafe opens at six, the early morning rush starting soon after, it’s almost impossible to hover, take pictures without getting in the way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s much better like this, the sunrise and seokwoo’s soft singing in the kitchen, gentle reassurance that he’s there, when he’s out of sight. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s stopped bustling around the kitchen to lean against the counter, staring absentmindedly out the dining room window. fresh sunlight bathes his skin in a warm glow, turns the scars scattered across his arms into delicate lines of silver. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee lifts the camera almost without thinking, searching for seokwoo in the centre of the frame. he doesn’t notice until chanhee’s lowered the viewfinder, coughing once to clear his throat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i’m going to head back now,” seokwoo starts, peeling away from the counter, “see you later.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“wait, take some of the -” seokwoo waves him into the kitchen, ducking inside before he finishes speaking. chanhee tucks the camera and into his bag, follows him, fiddling with the zipper before giving up, letting his bag hang open.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“sorry, they turned out way too sweet - my hand slipped - but at least eat something before you go,” seokwoo pushes a tray of peach scones towards chanhee. he takes one, tearing off a small chuck that melts into his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“they’re fine,” he mumbles, tearing off another bite. seokwoo beams, urging him to take another one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i guess we can put them out then. i don’t want to make another batch, anyway.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“seokwoo, are you <em>slacking off </em>-” seokwoo swats at him, hitting him in the arm. he probably means for it to be gentle - chanhee brings a hand up to rub at the spot, glad he didn’t have any more scone to drop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo takes one look at his face and realizes what he’s about to do, too late. the cupcake hits him in the chest, hot pink frosting sticking to front of his apron, the rest tumbling to the floor, seokwoo’s blank gaze following its path</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(chanhee’s pretty sure the cupcakes are rejects too - seokwoo’s perfectionism means there’s always extras hanging around the kitchen for the rest of them to snack on during their shifts, chanhee when he stays longer to study. he does feel a little bad about the mess, but he really needs seokwoo to learn his own strength - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it has nothing to do with the endearingly mischievous look on seokwoo’s face, when he tosses another one of the cupcakes at chanhee, hitting him just above the collar of his shirt, and the only reason chanhee isn’t as upset about <em>that</em> as he should be is he technically deserves it) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">its ends with seokwoo turning a (mostly empty) bag of flour over chanhee’s head, caging him in his arms when he tries to reach around blindly for something else to throw at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">pressed against seokwoo’s chest like this, he’s forced to give up, relax against him after pushing against his stomach barely budges him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he expects seokwoo to let him go. instead, a quiet minute passes before he feels a soft breath pass over his cheeks, seokwoo’s thumb gently brushing away the flour around his eyes. blinking, seokwoo’s hand passes through his hair, ruffling through it to shake away some of the flour while his chest slowly comes into slow focus in front of him. chanhee brings a hand up to absently swipe at some of the cupcake crumbs still sticking to his apron. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s a lost cause, but chanhee lets seokwoo keep combing through his hair, winding his arms around his waist when it starts to ache, holding them against his chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he’s almost expecting it, seokwoo’s lips pressed lightly against his, the hand in his hair tipping his chin up, sliding against his cheek. warm, intimiate, it’s not surprising enough to give seokwoo the chance to pull away, before chanhee kisses him back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s soft, a dozen short kisses before chanhee builds up the nerve to wind his arms around seokwoo’s neck, holding him still, the sweetness of powdered sugar clinging to full lips as they move carefully over his, sliding into place, seokwoo’s arm around his waist holding him tight</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">eyes closed, he bites down on his lip to keep it from jutting out when seokwoo pulls away away for good, a gentle, somehow firm hold on his chin keeping him from leaning forward again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo eases him back down onto his feet, rubbing at the small of his back the way he would the back of his neck, when he’s nervous. chanhee’s lips twist in a small frown that doesn’t help, the apologetic look in seokwoo’s eyes or his quiet voice, stammering out the beginning of an apology. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he pushes back up on his toes to kiss him again, more insistently this time, wondering how he could still think</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(except - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee has been telling himself he doesn’t want this, letting seokwoo touch him but stopping himself from reaching out to do the same. something, the possibility of losing seokwoo’s hesitant friendship made him push down his own feelings, until he could almost pretend they didn’t exist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">this whole time he’s known, understood taeyang’s long suffering looks and guessed at seokwoo’s downturned eyes, but - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that this could be the last time seokwoo ruffles his hair, ducks behind him to cover his face, his laughter muffled in chanhee’s shoulder and this, what they have is more than enough - until now) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">whatever he’s thinking about chanhee can feel it slip away, his lips pliant under his, hands at chanhee’s hips guiding him until he’s pushed up against the counter, lifted off the ground with his arms still around seokwoo’s neck. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">this time when seokwoo pulls away he looks stunned, the corners of his lips pulling up into a cautious smile and the furthest thing from apologetic. he dips down to peck at chanhee’s lips again before letting him speak. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i have to go -” covering seokwoo’s frown with a hand, chanhee stumbles over his next words trying to get them out fast enough to cut off the poisonous thoughts he can almost see behind his eyes - “i’m coming back, later today,” dropping his hand, searching for seokwoo’s by his hips on the counter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo squeezes his fingers between his, sliding them together, “need some time?” and chanhee nods, grateful. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he brings a hand up to cup seokwoo cheek, run his thumb over the high arch, “not because i regret this,” under his fingers, seokwoo smiles, leaning into the touch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“seokwoo?” he hums, absently playing with chanhee’s fingers, “we should clean up -” taking a hand off his cheek to wave in the general direction of everything - “this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">the serene smile falls off his face in an instant, stepping back to take in the disaster on the floor, their clothes and in chanhee’s hair. torn between laughing at him and wincing, chanhee slides off the counter, brushing at the flour he leaves behind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">they have some time before youngbin comes in to open the cafe, but even between the two of them it’s going to be a rushed half an hour. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">running a hand through his hair, seokwoo is still staring forlornly at the ground, mutters, “you should go, i -” before chanhee interrupts him again, this time to hold out a hand, for seokwoo to give him a cloth.<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i’ll leave after we clean,” he only has to insist a few more times before seokwoo begrudgingly hands him a broom. chanhee smiles, hiding it in the sleeve of shirt as he feigns rubbing more flour off of his face - seokwoo rarely ever wins their petty arguments, something reassuring in the familiar slump of his shoulders before he gives up pretending to be upset. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it barely feels as if any time has passed, seokwoo singing along to the radio as long as chanhee can hide the fact that he’s listening before youngbin comes in. the kitchen is mostly clean, as much as usual - if he suspects anything, chanhee and seokwoo clutching dirty rags behind their backs he doesn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee waves to him before he leaves, hovering at the front with seokwoo tentatively at his side, fingers drumming on the door frame. he hands him bag he forgot in the kitchen, turning to leave before chanhee’s fingers, loose around his wrist turn him around. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">before he can lose his nerve, chanhee leans up to kiss him on the cheek, reaching his jaw instead - reassurance that what happened between them wasn’t a sunrise dream he trusts seokwoo to understand, ducking his flushed face out the door seconds later. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s still early when he makes it back to his dorm, nervous energy that makes going to back sleep impossible still tingling under his skin. youngkyun looks surprised to see him, laces of his running shoes held loosely between his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i thought you were asleep,” pointing to the unmade pile of chanhee’s bed that could possibly have a person under it. chanhee shrugs, dumping his bag on top. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“hey, since you’re not asleep, you should come with me,” leaning against the door, youngkyun doesn’t look like he expects a positive answer - and usually, he would right. chanhee’s leg shakes while he thinks, pushing off the bed a tense couple of seconds later. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“yeah, sure,” the surprise on youngkyun’s face isn’t unwarranted, but a little insulting. chanhee steps into the bathroom to change, leaving his dusty clothes on top of the overflowing hamper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he <em>won’t</em> be the one to give in and do all of it, but he does have a rapidly diminishing pile of clean clothes to choose from. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">youngkyun leads him around their block while chanhee pays little attention to what’s in font of him. the run gives him something to do with the staticky feeling that won’t let him sit still, time to think. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">lungs, calves burning it’s a lot easier to admit to himself - that he loves seokwoo, or is infinitesimally close to it if only he’d let himself - and not have it be overwhelming. he doesn’t need to be afraid of pushing seokwoo away because he loves him, and the more he runs the more childish it feels that he ever was</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(finally, he can admit to himself that it has a lot, maybe everything to do with seokwoo’s embrace, the hesitance in his hands to push chanhee juxtaposed with the certainty with which he yielded to chanhee’s touch. he wonders, this whole time, if they’ve been worried about the same - </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">stops wondering, when it threatens to disrupt the careful order in which he’s managed to line up his thoughts, pushing away hollow doubts with the firmness of seokwoo’s lips on his, a promise. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he was scared, seokwoo was probably also scared - and now they aren’t, what matters) </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">by the time they circle back he’s almost managed to wrap his head around loving seokwoo. a shower, couple of hours, cups of coffee later and he’s turned the idea around enough that its grown familiar. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">stepping into the cafe after class, all his residual fears have melted away, leaving him with the confidence to reach up and pull seokwoo across the counter, pressing his lips to his long enough to feel him relax. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo blinks, wide eyed, mouth softly parted. chanhee almost smothers the flicker of pride at being the reason he looks so stunned before he remembers - he’s allowed to be proud, and to do it again. seokwoo doesn’t look upset, disgusted - just awed. more than all his careful musing, seokwoo’s tender expression reaffirms his conviction to try, opening up to seokwoo.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">taeyang pushes in front of seokwoo, standing up on his toes to try and block his face. he almost succeeds, until seokwoo’s head pops up above his, bringing his hands down on his shoulders to push him back down to the ground. over taeyang’s head, he grins at chanhee. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“when did this happen?” starting to put in chanhee’s order, taeyang pointedly doesn’t look at him, ignoring seokwoo’s bulk completely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“this morning,” their voices mingle, overlapping each other as seokwoo and chanhee speak up within seconds of each other. chin on his head, seokwoo can’t see taeyang grimace. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“congratulations, i can’t believe you’re already gross,” seokwoo laughs, peeling himself off of taeyang to take a cookie out of the display case. he tucks his nose into his shoulder to stifle a yawn, lifting his head up with a warm smile for chanhee.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee frowns, taking the plate from him, “when does your shift end?” he had been relieved to find seokwoo still here, only now realizes he must have been working for hours. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo leans against the counter, squeezing against the wall when taeyang pushes him to the side, trying to serve another customer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“it’s over, actually,” without thinking, chanhee reaches out, motions for seokwoo to follow him. he does, taking chanhee’s drink from taeyang before stepping back from the counter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">head titled to the side, seokwoo wordlessly takes chanhee’s hand, sipping from his drink with the other. he makes a face, ignoring chanhee’s <em>why did you drink it anyway, </em>taking a larger drink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“where are we going?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“home,” seokwoo stops, yanking chanhee back when he continues ahead of him. straw hovering below his open lips, chanhee isn’t sure he’s looked fully aware all day. slowly, he takes the milkshake from between seokwoo’s loose fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“not mine, yours,” seokwoo nods, happy to lead chanhee wherever he asks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">he makes quiet conversation as they walk, asks chanhee about the rest of his day, tells him about some of the more outrageous orders from customers. chanhee listens, sips his drink - feels the nervous energy under his skin finally settling down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">it’s the first time he’s met with seokwoo outside of the cafe, although he studies with taeyang and even once had lunch with youngbin. he spends a lot more time admiring seokwoo as the lights of the city pass by them than talking, but seokwoo is more than capable of filling the gap - something he’s appreciated from the beginning, seokwoo’s clear voice filling what might have been uncomfortable silence between strangers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">while they walk, seokwoo swings their joined hands sometimes quickly, sometimes lazily between them, depending on the story he’s telling. chanhee wonders if he knows he’s doing it, doesn’t ask in case he stops. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">seokwoo stills in front of an alleyway, leading off into a small residential area. he only hesitates for a second, worrying his lip between his teeth before asking, “do you want to come up?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">chanhee shakes his head, poking him in the chest with the empty cup, “another time. you’re falling asleep on your feet,” seokwoo chuckles, tugging on chanhee’s hand, making him stumble forward.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i’m fine,” seokwoo says, through a yawn. chanhee pushes him toward the mouth of the alley, waving him away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“wait, wait -” seokwoo digs through his pocket, takes out his phone. a thin layer of flour floats away from it, making chanhee smile. he abducted seokwoo still wearing his apron, more of a spotted mess than usual - because of this morning, but chanhee is almost positive he didn’t get any jam on him then, and yet there’s a purple streak on his neck, just above his collarbones. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">taking seokwoo’s phone from him, he puts his number in, leaning up to rub at the jam before giving it back. seokwoo brings a hand up to his neck a second later, catches chanhee’s fingers pulling away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“i’m not working tomorrow, can i meet you - sometime?” a lot less nervous than he had been, seokwoo’s cheeks are still dusted with a delicate colour. chanhee smiles, nodding. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">they’ll figure it out. seokwoo turns around after every step to look back at him before chanhee spins on his heels, walking towards his apartment when he can’t handle the honey swimming in seokwoo’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">briefly, he wonders if there should be something more - if there's something he forgot to do. he doesn't feel any different than he usually does after spending time with seokwoo, warm, relaxed, a little excited to see him again. the last has a bigger part of the butterflies in his stomach, more concrete than before, and that feels like enough - like a start, finally. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this kind of got away from me but !! please this prompt was so cute i just hope? i stuck a little to the theme and there's something in all of this that is kind of like what the !! prompter had in mind</p></blockquote></div></div>
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